• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Elric looked grave. “I might be able to strike a bargain with him. It will also test something.”

Elric turned his back on Rackhir and on Yyrkoon. He adjusted his mind. He sent it out through vast spaces and complicated mazes. And he cried:

“Arioch! Arioch! Aid me, Arioch!”

He had a sense of something listening to him.

“Arioch!”

Something shifted in the places where his mind went.

“Arioch . . .”

And Arioch heard him. He knew it was Arioch.

Rackhir gave a horrified yell. Yyrkoon screamed. Elric turned and saw that something disgusting had appeared near the far wall. It was black and it was foul and it slobbered and its shape was intolerably alien. Was this Arioch? How could it be? Arioch was beautiful. But perhaps, thought Elric, this was Arioch’s true shape. Upon this plane, in this peculiar cavern, Arioch could not deceive those who looked upon him.

But then the shape had disappeared and a beautiful youth with ancient eyes stood looking at the three mortals.

“You have won the sword, Elric,” said Arioch, ignoring the others. “I congratulate you. And you have spared your cousin’s life. Why so?”

“More than one reason,” said Elric. “But let us say he must remain alive in order to wake Cymoril.”

Arioch’s face bore a little, secret smile for a moment and Elric realized that he had avoided a trap. If he had killed Yyrkoon, Cymoril would never have woken again.

“And what is this little traitor doing with you?” Arioch turned a cold eye on Rackhir who did his best to stare back at the Chaos Lord.

“He is my friend,” said Elric. “I made a bargain with him. If he aided me to find the Black Sword, then I would take him back with me to our own plane.”

“That is impossible. Rackhir is an exile here. That is his punishment.”

“He comes back with me,” said Elric. And now he unhooked the scabbard holding Stormbringer from his belt and he held the sword out before him. “Or I do not take the sword with me. Failing that, we all three remain here for eternity.”

“That is not sensible, Elric. Consider your responsibilities.”

“I have considered them. That is my decision.”

Arioch’s smooth face had just a tinge of anger. “You must take the sword. It is your destiny.”

“So you say. But I now know that the sword may only be borne by me. You cannot bear it, Arioch, or you would. Only I—or another mortal like me—can take it from the Pulsing Cavern. Is that not so?”

“You are clever, Elric of Melniboné.” Arioch spoke with sardonic admiration. “And you are a fitting servant of Chaos. Very well—that traitor can go with you. But he would be best warned to tread warily. The Lords of Chaos have been known to bear malice . . .”

Rackhir said hoarsely: “So I have heard, My Lord Arioch.”

Arioch ignored the archer. “The man of Phum is not, after all, important. And if you wish to spare your cousin’s life, so be it. It matters little. Destiny can contain a few extra threads in her design and still accomplish her original aims.”

“Very well then,” said Elric. “Take us from this place.”

“Where to?”

“Why, to Melniboné, if you please.”

With a smile that was almost tender Arioch looked down on Elric and a silky hand stroked Elric’s cheek. Arioch had grown to twice his original size. “Oh, you are surely the sweetest of all my slaves,” said the Lord of Chaos.

And there was a whirling. There was a sound like the roar of the sea. There was a dreadful sense of nausea. And three weary men stood on the floor of the great throne room in Imrryr. The throne room was deserted, save that in one corner a black shape, like smoke, writhed for a moment and then was gone.

Rackhir crossed the floor and seated himself carefully upon the first step to the Ruby Throne. Yyrkoon and Elric remained where they were, staring into each other’s eyes. Then Elric laughed and slapped his scabbarded sword. “Now you must fulfill your promises to me, cousin. Then I have a proposition to put to you.”

“It is like a market place,” said Rackhir, leaning on one elbow and inspecting the feather in his scarlet hat. “So many bargains!”

CHAPTER FIVE

The Pale King’s Mercy

Yyrkoon